All the Clouds in a Sunny Sky
by Puddycat
Summary: Envy is the catalyst for disaster. Cross between original anime and manga canons.
1. Chapter 1

HOLY MOTHER-LOVERS IN SATAN-LAND, I LIVE! lol Been so caught up on my writing course at University that I haven't written anything outside of my work for the course, but as my assignments are all done and dusted and chapter 107 made me cry so friggin' much, I decided to actually write this one. It has no spoilers for 107/any recent chapters, it's sort of a cross between the original anime and the manga/Brotherhood; homunculi can be created by human transmutation AND by Father, with Father still in charge of them/in Dante's place (Envy still has the original anime's origins, just Dante is out of the picture)

I've been planning this in my head for ages, and I have the rest of it all mapped out so I shouldn't get stuck anywhere. I'm intending to get most if not all of this written and uploaded by the end of summer, and with my track record, this should be uhh.... interesting... Feel free to poke me via PM if I get more than three weeks without an update. I'm serious. Please do it, I procrastinate far too much.

Disclaimer - I'm not Japanese, and my self-portrait is not a really awesome cow. So no, I'm not Arakawa-sensei, but I do borrow her characters for abuse in non-profit products of boredom such as this.

* * *

"Let her go, Envy."

"Or what? You gonna fight me, pipsqueak?"

Elysia squirmed in his grip, twisting herself around so that she could look at Roy and Edward and reach her arms out towards them. Roy moved as though he were about to go over, but Edward reached an arm out to stop him without looking away from the girl.

"He'll kill her if you get too close," the blonde muttered.

"Why are you even doing this?" Alphonse asked; Edward glanced over to him, then back to the homunculus. "She's got nothing to do with this."

"Yeah..." Envy said slowly. "But you two have, and you like her, so I take her to get to you. It's really not a hard concept to grasp."

Outside a tile fell and shattered on the ground, a few pigeons cooing to each other across rooftops. Elysia was still in her pyjamas from the night before, the pink cotton bunching around her waist where Envy held her. Her hair was sticking up in tangled tufts, her eyes red and puffy as she tried to stop sniffling.

"But why?"

"Someone told me you were meant to be smart," Envy rolled his eyes.

" We're meant to be sacrifices, right?"

"What other purpose could you serve?"

Edward watched Envy carefully, examining him for even the slightest weakness; his grip was tight enough to keep Elysia secure but not tight enough to hurt her. If he could distract the homunculus, maybe bait him into a fight, he would drop the girl, or at least loosen his grip and Elysia could wriggle free. No... He had fought Envy before; he knew the homunculus wouldn't need both hands, not unless Edward was willing to get seriously injured. He took risks but wasn't stupid – there had to be another way...

" Aren't you meant to be trying to get us to go willingly, not making us more likely to oppose you?" Alphonse asked, ignoring the homunculus' insults.

"That's the plan, yes."

"Then why take her?"

"I'm just trying to piss you off. It's a personal thing, you see. Isn't that right, Shorty?"

Edward stopped looking for ways to free Elysia, instead staring at the homunculus with a frown. What could he be on about? Then he remembered. He'd found out three months ago, but he didn't know Envy knew he'd found it... He clenched his jaw and began looking for a way to shut him up that wouldn't hurt Elysia. Envy grinned and set the girl down, letting her run over to Roy who passed her over to Riza; she in turn passed her to a captain to take outside.

"Now, see, little Edward's been keeping a secret from you."

"Brother?"

"It's a pretty big one, too, I'm surprised none of you noticed or found out yourselves."

Edward became aware of every detail of the homunculus' features; his too-wide mouth, how pointed his nose was, even how little he blinked – twice in the past three minutes. And he couldn't back away as Envy approached.

"I think it's time for a story, don't you?" Envy grabbed Edward's automail arm and gave it a sharp tug; Edward didn't resist as he was pulled forwards and spun around to face everyone else. "Once upon a time – about two hundred years ago, if I remember right – there lived a man called Von Hohenheim. He's still alive today, but that's another story for another time. Now, Von Hohenheim had a son, but this son got sick and died. Wishing he hadn't died, and with a Philosopher's Stone in his pocket, Von Hohenheim decided to bring his son back. But, boys and girls, do you know what happens when you try that? You create a homunculus. This particular homunculus could shape-shift, and is also still around today." He paused and grinned at Alphonse. "You know what that means?"

"That's not... You can't..."

"I assure you, I can," Envy laughed as he transformed, stepping closer to Edward even as his hair shortened and turned blonde, flinging his arm around the alchemist's shoulder. "Me and the shrimp, here, we're blood brothers. Same as you and me. All part of the same dysfunctional family."

"That can't be true..."

"Just ask your big brother. Well... One of them..." Envy snorted and clapped Edward's back, turning and heading for one of the doors. The soldiers raised their guns, but Envy paused and glanced back over his shoulder. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. You'll be dead before you empty them." He grinned again and walked out unchallenged, cackling as he went.

They could hear the sounds of children playing in the nearby schoolyard, their squeals and shouts carrying through the open windows. The shadow of a sparrow flitted past outside, and the murmur of the market began to increase as the town began to wake up.

The soldiers all stood still, glancing around at each other but always looking back to Edward, looking over to where he stood separate from the rest with his fists clenched tightly, not looking at any of them.

"Brother?" Alphonse asked eventually. "Was any of that actually true?"

Edward closed his eyes for a moment, looking down to the floor when he re-opened them. There were cracks running beneath his feet.

"When did you find out?" Roy asked quietly.

"A while ago."

"How?"

"Found some letters."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone?"

"You didn't think to tell me?" Alphonse cut in. Edward winced, and waited a moment before replying carefully, still staring down at the floor.

"I... I didn't want you to know," he said.

"But why not?"

There was another pause, Edward measuring his breathing to make sure his voice wouldn't crack.

"Because I didn't want you to have another burden. Especially not one like that."

"You need a better excuse than that, Edward," the armour said coldly; his brother stayed silent. "Fine. Whatever."

Alphonse shook his head and turned towards the door. He glanced back over to Edward, but the blonde still had his gaze fixed on the tiles beneath his feet; with another shake of his head, the armour walked away from him.

Edward listened to his clunking steps until he couldn't hear them any more, unable to decide whether he wanted to run after or away from his little brother. His left fist clenched tighter, so hard it began cramping but he still didn't relax it. The soldiers around them began to file out quietly, Havoc and Hawkeye waiting behind until Roy waived them out, leaving him alone with the boy.

"Edward," Roy said quietly. "Explain."

"What's there to explain?" the boy asked, his voice catching slightly. "Envy got it down pretty well."

"Well first of all you can explain why you didn't say anything when you found out, and secondly you can explain why you haven't gone after your brother yet."

The blonde finally looked at him, glancing up through strands of hair.

"Would you?"

"That's not the point."

"Whatever," Edward muttered, heading for the door. Roy grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You're going to need to come back to the office to make a report about today, you know."

Edward paused for a moment, and Roy frowned; normally he would have been voicing his protests immediately... The blonde reached down and unhooked his watch, pulling it from his pocket and handing it to Roy before slipping his arm away and walking past him to the door.

"Problem solved."

* * *

Seriously, guys - poke me with sharp sticks if I don't update inside of three weeks...


	2. Chapter 2

I will finish this one! I will! I've got it all planned out and everything. Get me with my awesome organisational skills...

Pumpkin2Face alerted me to this, and I apologise; I assumed everyone had seen the first anime. For those who haven't, the bits I've taken from it are that Sloth is Ed and Al's "sin" (their failed transmutation. Not been mentioned yet, but it'll come up at some point) and the bits about Envy last chapter (they find out in a different way, but the basics are the same. Apologies for the spoiler, it wasn't intentional...). To kill a homunculus that has been created via human transmutation, you need a piece of the person they were intended to be. To kill one created by Father, you keep killing them until they stay dead (in this fic, both ways leave a corpse. Lovely...). There are possibly a few other things, but I can't think of them right now.

Disclaimer - I'm not Japanese, and my self-portrait is not a really awesome cow. So no, I'm not Arakawa-sensei, but I do borrow her characters for abuse in non-profit products of boredom such as this.

* * *

"What the hell is he doing?" Roy sighed, rubbing his eyes as he put the single sheet of paper back in its envelope.

"Whatever it is, it can't be good," Havoc said.

"How is he even staying hidden? The whole damn military's out looking."

"Beats me. Al's getting it in the neck, though."

"How so?"

"What, you didn't know?" Havoc asked? Roy stared at him blankly as he squashed his cigarette in the ashtray and tilted his wooden chair back on two legs, exhaling smoke as he put his hands behind his head. "They think he knows where Ed is, so they keep badgering him and following him to see if they meet up or something."

Roy rolled his eyes and laid his head down on the desk with his eyes closed; a few seconds later he sat up again, rubbing his temple where a pen had been pressing into him and glaring at it. He heard clunking footsteps approaching down the corridor as he jammed the pen back into its bronze holder. His gaze found the worn leather writing cushion, and it looked even worse beneath the pristine envelope; Roy found himself wishing it was crumpled or torn, anything to stop it looking so damn sterile. He only just held back a wince as a knock sounded from the door, the old oak creaking open a second later.

"Colonel?"

"Hey, kid," Havoc answered instead. "How're you doing?"

"I've been better," Alphonse admitted. "You?"

"Meh, so-so."

"Did you find out anything?" Roy asked.

"Where'd you go?"

"I went to Youswell," Alphonse told him. "We were there a while ago, I figured he might go someplace familiar but no luck."

"Nothing at all?"

"No. They said they'd keep an eye out for him, though."

"That's something, at least."

Roy's fingers were fiddling with the corners of the brown envelope, bending them back but not far enough to crease them, letting them go then re-bending them the other way. The letter-opener was practically calling to him so that he could destroy the envelope, but he reasoned why bother with that when he could just rip it? He made a tiny tear along the folded flap, but managed to resist shredding the entire thing. Just.

"The report from Investigations is here," he said eventually. "There's not much to it, same as last time – did a few laps of the city, asked people questions, did a few more laps then went to bed without finding anything. They don't have the first clue where to-"

"SIR!" a Lieutenant flung the door open and ran in.

"What is it?"

"It's the Fuhrer, Sir – he's been assassinated!"

"_What_?"

"I don't know how, I was just told to tell you to go up to his office."

Roy wasn't aware he had gotten up until he was already out in the corridor and sprinting towards the staircase. He passed Breda along the way, almost knocking the white coffee cup from his hands as he only just managed to dodge the Second Lieutenant, but didn't stop to apologise.

His legs grew heavy before he had even gone three floors up but still he pushed himself to keep up the pace. He almost collapsed as his legs threatened to give way beneath him when he reached the flat ground of the eleventh floor, the wooden panels along the wall providing the support he needed to remain standing. Pausing for a moment he breathed deeply, waiting until his heartbeat had slowed to a bearable pace before he moved along the corridor to the Fuhrer's office.

"Did we plan for this?"

The heavy oak doors had been left ajar.

"No. He was meant to be nigh-on indestructible, I don't understand..."

"Whoever did this is skilled, and almost definitely injured after that."

Roy pushed the doors open and strode in, his calm control catching the attention of the twenty or so other soldiers gathered around the large desk. General Hawthorne glanced over to Regar and was met with a small shake of his head. Roy didn't miss it.

"What happened?" he asked.

"No-one's quite sure," one of the Major Generals – Benson, if Roy recalled his name correctly – answered, staring down at the hastily-scribbled initial reports. "Apparently his wife was drugged so she wouldn't wake up. When she eventually came round, half the house was destroyed and the Fuhrer was dead in the dining room."

"They have a son, don't they? What about him?"

"Missing, as far as we know."

"Maybe this was meant to be a kidnapping?" Regar asked the room. "What if the Fuhrer just got in the way?"

"No," Roy answered. "If they got close enough to kill him, no doubt they were close enough to drug him too."

"So you just think this is just out-and-out murder?"

"It looks like it."

"What about the boy? He's still missing."

"Then we go to the estate, see if we can find any clues."

* * *

Dun-dun-duuuuuuun! Really, Roy, ordering your superiors about like that - shame on you! You ought to have more respect for military protocol... Aaanyways... Did I invoke some deep and burning desire in you to know more? Did I successfully fend off your boredom? Did I at least do a semi-decent job? Feel free to bombard me with reviews and alert subscriptions, I won't complain. In fact, I may even crack a tiny smile... XD lol


	3. Chapter 3

This fic is gonna be looooong... I apologise...

Disclaimer - I'm not Japanese, and my self-portrait is not a really awesome cow. So no, I'm not Arakawa-sensei, but I do borrow her characters for abuse in non-profit products of boredom such as this.

* * *

Blood and rubble covered the floor of the house, the deep wood panels on the walls now scarred and dyed darker with dried blood. The gouges in the panels looked like a knife had dragged through them, moving with force and speed; the Fuhrer must have only just avoided it, Roy thought.

"What the hell happened?" he asked, staring around the lobby of the ruined mansion. He didn't expect an answer, and he didn't get one. Everyone within earshot either shrugged or shook their heads, if they even reacted at all.

Roy walked through the mansion, noting how the darker patches of carpet crunched with dried blood and trying to avoid them. He paused by the dining room; the entire doorway had been blown apart leaving a gaping, almost frayed hole in the wall. On the long mahogany table was a chalked outline, and next to it a young sergeant scribbling notes in a small black book. He spotted Roy and saluted.

"At ease," Roy returned the salute. "Are you part of Investigations?"

"I'm learning to be. They're only letting me look at rooms they've already gone through."

"And what have you found?"

"I'm not really the one to ask – I only just transferred to Investigations."

"Even so, I'd like to hear it."

The sergeant blushed, dipping his head in thanks. He flicked quickly through to the start of his notes, fumbling as he almost dropped the pen in the process.

"Well, I didn't find much. Unless the others have spotted anything, they didn't leave any traces or clues," the sergeant skimmed through his notes again and nodded to himself. "Whoever did this really doesn't want to be found out."

"But?"

"It's just... This amount of blood. I'm sure you've seen how much there is everywhere. It can't all have been the Fuhrer's. There had to have been a group, and a few of them had to have died for this much blood."

"And?"

"And what?"

"There's something you haven't told me," Roy said.

"No..." the sergeant stood up straighter and looked him in the eye. "No, that's everything."

"You need to get better at lying before you try it on me. I'm ordering you to tell me."

The sergeant sighed and fiddled with his notebook, closing it then re-opening it and flicking through the pages, stopping for a moment to cap his pen.

"I think... It's just a theory. The others think I'm nuts for even considering it."

"Go on."

"I think Scar was involved somehow."

Pause. No sound apart from the shuffling of feet on the ceiling above, the steps sending loose white dust floating down to the ground. Roy stared at the sergeant.

"Why?"

"What?" the sergeant asked.

"Why do you think Scar was here?"

"Well... The door for one." Roy turned back to look at the wound in the wall. "There are several more of those around the house, as well as scratches from two different blades. Those blast marks look the same as the ones I've seen from Scar. One of the blades is the Fuhrer's, but the other one... It's shaped differently to a sword or knife. The shape of the blade is rounded, not flat."

"Show me."

"Huh?"

"Show me how you got to those conclusions."

The sergeant led him over to a patch of panelling covered in scratches, pulled a small ruler from the back of his notebook and began explaining. The Fuhrer's blade was narrow, 2.5mm at its thickest, like some of the scratches. The others were more frequent, suggesting they belonged to one of Scar's accomplices. They were also almost a lot thicker, suggesting a large blade, but if Roy looked over there, there was a mark where that blade had stabbed the wall instead of dragged through. It was less than a millimetre thicker than the Fuhrer's, but had a gentle arch to it. This would have made it much harder to drag through the wall, the sergeant explained. The wielder would need a lot of strength behind the strikes to have done that sort of damage, and a strong resilience to cramp and tiredness in their arm. More than likely they were male, because of the force, but possibly either small or didn't want to tire their arm too much as there were no blows over five feet and two inches above the floor. Regardless of their gender or build, Scar's new accomplice was lethal – the Fuhrer's final injury was a stab wound to the neck, inflicted with a curved blade. This accomplice had taken down the Fuhrer.

Roy stared at the sergeant with his mouth open a little.

"How the hell...?"

"I know, it's an insane idea, the other guys wouldn't even let me finish, just called it ridiculous."

"No. Not ridiculous."

"Really? You believe me?"

"You make good points, and you're sure of your analysis. Plus I think you're onto something here," Roy said, indicating the scratches on the walls. "Research what you can about any blade like that, and keep looking at this with an open mind. If you come up with any other theories, let me know."

"I will, Sir."

"Good. What's your name?"

"Sergeant Kinney, Sir."

"Expect to be hearing from me, Sergeant Kinney."

"Yes, Sir. The rest of Investigations are in the master bedroom, if you want to speak to them."

"I'm not interested in anything they have to say."

Roy left the dining room and returned to the hallway, staring around at the mess once more. He glanced towards the stairs, but didn't go up them. There were six bars missing from the banister, and the wood was splintered and shattered. Scar, Roy thought. Directly opposite him was an arched stab wound in the dark panel, a downward strike that tore a chunk from the wood.

He sighed, shook his head, and left.

**X**

"Well?" Havoc asked as Roy entered the office. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"About the Fuhrer. They're saying Mrs Bradley came down in the morning and found the mansion trashed and the Fuhrer dead."

"Yeah. It's true."

Havoc exhaled slowly, Fuery's eyes went wide, and Breda just shook his head. Falman and Hawkeye remained stoic and barely reacted at all.

"So someone actually took out the old guy... Damn... He always seemed pretty invincible," Havoc said.

"No-one is invincible," Roy muttered.

"I never said they were."

The Colonel stared out the window at the unusually dull cityscape below them, gazing down at the miniaturised people and wondering if any of them could be Scar's new accomplice. There were small specs of dirt beginning to gather at the bottom of each pane of glass, a thin line of black made only more noticeable by the sun shining in. Who the hell had that kind of strength?

"Sir?" Hawkeye interrupted his thoughts. "These papers need your approval by tomorrow."

He stared at her for a moment, nodded, and took the small pile to his inner office. He set them on the desk and pulled the top sheet off as he sat down with a squeak of protest from the old leather chair. He uncapped his pen, but after a moment capped it again and leant back in his seat.

The off-white ceiling fan turned slowly, constantly, for hours as he thought.

* * *

Ponder it, Colonel... Ponder it well...


	4. Chapter 4

Finally! I've been wanting to continue this one for ages, but haven't had the time to do anything fanfic-y in a long while. It's good to be back.

Disclaimer - I'm not Japanese, and my self-portrait is not a really awesome cow. So no, I'm not Arakawa-sensei, but I do borrow her characters for abuse in non-profit products of boredom such as this.

* * *

"Sir!"

"At ease, Corporal." Roy gave a half-hearted salute. "What is it?"

"Sir, they've… They've found Selim Bradley's body."

(-)

The young boy was still splayed in the alley when Roy arrived. Blood and bruises covered him almost completely, turning his skin a mix of lilac and burgundy. Several of his bones were clearly broken, and there was a gaping hole in his middle. Lumps of intestine were lying next to him in bloody masses, some parts washed clean by the rain so Roy could see their real colour. He grimaced and swallowed hard.

"What do you think, Sir?" Riza's hands were squeezed into fists as he stared down at the boy.

"This is brutal, personal. Otherwise, why not a bullet to the head?"

"I don't know, Sir. But it doesn't look like he was killed here."

"You're right. Not enough blood and certainly not enough time. And I hate to say it, but that wound in his stomach looks like Scar's work."

"Do you really think he's capable of this? Beating and murdering an innocent child?"

"I think there are a lot of things Scar is capable of."

"But is this one of them?"

Roy walked to the end of the alley and looked up and down the street. It was wide, but the area was mainly industrial complexes. There probably weren't many people walking around, especially after dark. Roy gazed out at the crowd, each of them trying to get a glimpse of the mutilated boy, some of them crying. One woman was sobbing into a pale green handkerchief, but it was the person behind her that caught his eye. A young man was standing completely still, a black hood pulled up and obscuring the top half of his face. From the features Roy could see, his expression was unreadable. The young man lifted his head slightly and met Roy's gaze. Light golden eyes Roy would know anywhere. Roy frowned; why, after months of completely avoiding anyone he knew, would Edward show up in a place surrounded by military officials? Before Roy could move the blonde had gone, slipping into the crowd and out of Roy's gaze. He scanned the group of onlookers but couldn't see Edward anywhere.

"Is something the matter, Sir?" Riza came to stand beside him, also looking towards the crowd.

"No. No, it's nothing."

"General Hawthorne is here to take over, Sir."

(-)

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" The Sergeant was young and eager, his uniform creases still crisp, his hair still at regulation length and his salute still sharp.

"Sergeant Kinney, right?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Tell me what you know about the Bradley murders."

Kinney stared at him. "I'm sorry, Sir?"

"The case has been locked from anyone not directly involved, I want to know why."

"I'm not sure I'm authorised to tell you, Sir."

Roy stood and walked over to the Sergeant. He could see the light from the keyhole and gap beneath the door turn to shadows as his men quietly wrestled outside the door for the best spot to eavesdrop, but he didn't call them out. Kinney remained at attention, with his gaze pointed towards the top of the large windows even as Roy stood directly in front of him.

"Look at me, Kinney. And drop the stance, no-one in this office cares."

"Sorry, Sir," he said, relaxing.

"Don't be. You know there's something off about this whole case, don't you? Even if no-one's said anything, you can feel it. It's on complete lockdown, they're not naming any suspects even though – as you pointed out – the marks in the mansion suggest Scar's involvement, and even though they're meant to be training you, they're telling you to go in rooms after them – on your own – and not instructing you in any way. Does that sound like standard procedure to you?" Roy paused; Kinney frowned and looked away. "They let you go over the area where they found Selim, right? I just want to know what you found. We know he wasn't killed in the alley, but Hawthorne turned up before we could find out anything else."

There was a long pause while Kinney shuffled his feet and glanced around the office.

"Well… It looked like he was brought in from the North end of the alley – there were smudges of blood on the wall – but I noticed tyre tracks outside the South end."

"Did you speak to the higher-ups about it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"And what did they say?"

"Nothing. They said the smudges meant he was brought in from the North end, but I'm certain he wasn't."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Just a gut feeling."

"Is that all?"

"They moved Selim quite quickly, and I didn't want to be poking around the poor boy out of respect, so I don't know what came up from the autopsy. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If anything else feels off, come straight to me. And it might be advisable to keep most of your findings to yourself. Don't tell your superiors, if you feel it's something vital come to me."

"May I ask why, Sir?"

"I don't think they're actually trying to solve this case, and if that's true it's probably not a good idea to let them know that you've noticed all the mistakes they're making."

"Understood, Sir. Thank you." Kinney saluted again.

"While you're in my office you can stop doing that, too. I've told you, no-one in here cares."

After the Sergeant left, Roy went back to signing papers. The stack was at least six inches high, and he was certain it wouldn't be the last such pile he would have in front of him before the end of the day. He was completing the fifth signature-and-initial set needed to authorise leave for a soldier he had never heard of when the pen began to run out. The ink ran a pale blue and the nib scratched more than usual across the paper. He sighed, and began rummaging in his left-hand drawer for a new cartridge. On top of the ink cartridges, hole punchers and folders was an envelope. He pulled it out; _Colonel Mustang_ was scribbled on the front in writing he felt sure was Fullmetal's.

_Osiris Church, 17__th__ July, 8pm. Bring Armstrong and Alphonse._

(-)

The church was dark and smelt of dust and mould. It took a moment for Roy's eyes to adjust before he could see the rows of pews stretching out before the altar at the far end. A person was leaning against the altar, and several more were sitting on or close to the pews at the front. The smallest of the group stood and began running towards the soldiers.

"Alphonse!"

"Mei? What are you doing here?"

The girl stopped in front of them, bouncing from foot to foot and speaking fast. "Everyone's gathering here because you can get to Father's base from here and you're all going down to fight him only I'm not allowed I have to stay up here with _her_ and Mr Yoki but some of you won't be allowed down either so it won't be as annoying and-"

"Slow down, please. What's going on?"

"Father's base. You can get to it from this church." As he walked towards them, the young man's features became defined enough for them to identify him.

"Ling!" Alphonse said.

"It's Greed. And you guys won't be able to come." He nodded to Havoc and Hawkeye.

"Excuse me," Roy cut in. "They're my subordinates, I decide where they do or do not go."

"Well sure they can come along. Provided, of course, that you don't mind Father killing them within about two seconds. Without fast transmutations to protect themselves, they won't last a minute. Guns won't even begin to work against him."

Roy paused; the Elrics had told him all about Father after their first encounter with him, and had emphasised how they struggled to even stay alive, let alone attack him. "Fine. But what's your plan?"

"Not mine – his." He nodded towards the figure still leaning against the altar. "And he's not telling."

As they approached, the others began to stand and face them. Izumi, Yoki and Scar moved to gather at the top of the aisle. Roy stopped and tensed, his hands poised to snap as he eyed Scar. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alphonse move forward.

"Brother!"

From his position next to the altar, Edward didn't move. His face was shadowed so much that Roy couldn't see his expression.

"We share a common enemy," Scar said. "For today, at least, we shouldn't attack each other."

"Brother, I-"

"Save it," the older boy muttered, turning and heading towards a tapestry hanging on the back wall. He pulled it aside to reveal a passageway and ducked through it.

Roy nodded to his subordinates and followed after him, along with the other alchemists and Scar, with Greed bringing up the rear. He glanced back before the tapestry fell into place again, and saw Mei settling on the floor with a pout while Havoc and Hawkeye looked around for the best guard points. Yoki was sitting off to the side looking around at the stained glass windows.

As the tapestry fell, the passageway was thrown into darkness.

(-)

Roy's whole body ached. His back was pressed against a pillar and he was curled over with his arms protecting the back of his head. To his right and left there was only rubble. Both of his knees clicked as he straightened them out, and when he tried to stretch his hands they felt stiff and seemed to take more effort to move than before.

He eased himself to his feet, supporting himself against the remains of the rough stone pillar. The hand he was resting against had a new scar across the back of it, flowering out from where the centre of the array on his glove would be. His other hand held an identical scar, neither of which had been there before. Shuffling over the shattered stone around him, he turned towards the centre of the chamber. He could hear the others shifting and moving around in the shadows behind the other remaining pillars. To his right were Armstrong and Greed, both staring around with the same vacant shock Roy felt. Scar was across from him, also standing, but as Roy watched he leant against the pillar and sank back down to the floor. Izumi was off to his right, pulling herself over to the unmoving suit of armour. Roy began moving over there too, stumbling and staggering when his feet refused to lift more than an inch off the floor.

"Colonel…" Armstrong was calling to him from across the chamber.

Roy dismissed him with a wave as he reached the armour and fell to his knees next to it. "Al? Alphonse, you need to wake up."

"Where are we?" Izumi asked, leaning on Alphonse's breastplate as she stared around the chamber.

"I have no idea." Roy shook the armour. "Alphonse? Alphonse, wake up."

"Colonel Mustang." Armstrong again.

"One minute," the Colonel called back. "We should move." He glanced around. "That doorway there looks to be our best bet."

"We may have to take Al's armour apart if he doesn't wake up."

"I've never seen him out like this before… I don't think he's coming back any time soon. You take those buckles, I'll do the ones on this side. If we get him into small enough pieces, we can carry him while you and Armstrong watch for any attacks."

"What about you?"

"No gloves." He finished undoing the buckles and began lifting the steel plate.

"Colonel Mustang, you really should see this."

"Not now, Armstrong!" Roy shook his head and raised the plate the rest of the way. He stared into the steel chest then over to Izumi.

Inside the armour was a boy, unconscious and shaking. His skin looked like tissue paper and Roy could see most of the boy's bones. He threw his coat over the boy and stood to stare around the chamber once more.

"_Where's Fullmetal_?" he hissed.

"Colonel Mustang, will you please just _look_!" Armstrong was standing in the centre of the room, pointing at the floor.

An array had been burned into the stone, and alchemic scorch marks radiated out from the centre. Across all of this was a layer of blood, still glistening wet though beginning to darken and congeal in places. Edward was not in the chamber.

"What the hell happened here?"

* * *

If you have the time, please let me know what you liked/didn't like - I live for criticism. I need some ideas for parental!RoyEd oneshots for Got Your Back, too, so if anyone's got some they don't mind me using then please send them this way.

- Puddy


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